We'll meet again…
Don't know where…
Don't know when…
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…
Elsa could never have been accused of being fond of old music. Her taste extended to whatever happened to be on the radio, be it back in England or the more local stations of Wakanda (with most of her time spent in the jeep); it tended to change with the charts.
Then she married the brooding James Buchanan Barnes and (with Spotify added as an extra wedding present alongside the donkeys after a subtle hint from Steve) from there, her fleeting taste tended to blend into his more solid one.
What she should have expected (but hadn't really thought about) was for music to be sentimental to her darling Bucky; for it to have been a cornerstone of his youth that he tried to cling to when the worst things imaginable were done to him. But, like everything else prior to his voluntary cryostasis, he got his music back too. First from Steve, then his wife on a more permanent basis. Well… Supposedly permanent basis that had only lasted three weeks.
Keep smiling through…
Just like you always do…
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away…
So, it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise for Elsa and Bucky's first days as newlyweds to be spent close (not like that but that too. A lot of that) with the distinctive warble of Dame Vera Lynn serenading them from the kitchen counter; clear and crisp from Bucky's communication device, clearer than he ever remembered it floating from a jukebox in a dancehall or a bar. The song, synonymous with sweethearts parting for war, meant nothing just then, not really. Another mutual favourite on a combined playlist that saw two bodies (one significantly bigger than the other) swaying together in the kitchen's limited floorspace (that technically spilt into the "bedroom"), enveloped in each other; physically and emotionally.
So will you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know…
Tell them I won't be long…
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go…
I was singing this song…
"Hey…"
"Mmm…?"
Bucky would rather crawl over hot coals than lift his cheek from the silky cushion of his tiny wife's chocolate crown just then, so tranquillized and soothed by the contact alone. And what it did for him on an emotional and spiritual level… That was a whole other level entirely.
"When was the last time I told you I loved you?" Elsa didn't need to think about it but so wrapped up in the natural heat and musk of her husband's chest, the answer was a little slow (understandably) forthcoming. That said, she had to get in the trademark tease that had become key in the relationship. That it would be strange, unrecognizable, without.
"About… ten minutes ago. But when I hadn't heard it since then, I was beginning to doubt it."
"Never doubt it, beautiful. Never."
We'll meet again…
Don't know where, don't know when…
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…
The impromptu waltz in the kitchen happened while dinner simmered, some week or so into their fresh marriage; it would become commonplace for them to simply melt into each other and just… dance. Eyes closed, chest to chest, breathing slow and simply one with each didn't particularly matter what song happened to be playing and perhaps this one did not quite suit the circumstance of two newlyweds setting out on their shared life together.
Or… It shouldn't have.
We'll meet again…
Don't know where, don't know when…
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do…
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away…
While it was a song (and continues to be) that brought a tear to the eye of many a war widow or sweetheart left behind, Elsa, in two thousand and eighteen, was not one of them. There and then, the security of one arm draped around her waist held enough for two, both hearts matched in their shared beat, their breath doing much the same to the slow but jazzy, sentimental tune only enhanced the beauty of one of many magical moments.
Had the little vet been asked, she would never have assumed that hearing the song again or even thinking about it would force her to burst into tears. Her lip to tremble. Her eyes to sting. Her knees to buckle. Her chest to heave. Her hands to tremor. Her heart to break. For it to represent such crushing devastation and a cruel occurring of something abominable that never should have happened. For her mind to clamour deafeningly and to railroad herself back to a shadow of her former self; reminiscent of when her engagement ended.
Not yet, anyway.
So will you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know…
Tell them I won't be long…
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go…
I was singin' this song…
"The night before I shipped out… They played this song." Bucky's stance did not break but fractured just enough to roll his cheek and press an adoring peck to his beloved's temple; one that prompted her to (if it was possible) snuggle closer, something that Bucky not only accepted but accommodated wholeheartedly. "My last night in New York. My last night in Brooklyn."
"You'll go back." Elsa assured softly, sensing the familiar rawness (that he had been promised was okay to express, encouraged even, if he was to rectify it) and responding accordingly; as only a supportive wife would. "It might be very different. Unrecognizable even. But I'll go with you, when your name is clear, and you feel up to it. When you feel that need for closure, we will go to Brooklyn."
We'll meet again…
Don't know where, don't know when…
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.
